


Speedos & Margaritas

by Tuesdayschildd



Series: Riverdale Kink Week [5]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Margaritas, PWP without Porn, Riverdale Kink Week, Smut, Speedos, poolboy, ralphiekins, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuesdayschildd/pseuds/Tuesdayschildd
Summary: He’s close enough now that she can make out the beads of sweat running down his chiseled chest, similar to the perspiration on the outside of her margarita glass, but likely much more delicious.He’s been skimming the water surface with a net going on 30 minutes now, and she’s gotten an eyeful during it, watching him bend over every now and again in the small speedo, the muscles in his back straining and his perfect behind on full display.Day 5 of Riverdale Kink Week





	Speedos & Margaritas

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy Poolboy Ralphiekins as much as I do. He may make an appearance again in the future if you do. 
> 
> Shout out to best kinkweek beta ever Addison

The sun is blisteringly hot on her skin, the heat like heaven and hades as she stretches out in the lounge chair, her muscles relaxing into the cushion as she listens to the water fall near the other end of the pool.    
  
Her eyes are hidden behind large Fendi sunglasses, with additional ray coverage provided by a large brimmed black hat adorning her head. But the rest of her cappuccino skin is free to soak up the sun, minus a black string bikini, the tied ends of which she’s running through her fingers absentmindedly while she watches him.    
  
He’s close enough now that she can make out the beads of sweat running down his chiseled chest, similar to the perspiration on the outside of her margarita glass, but likely much more delicious.   
  
He’s been skimming the water surface with a net going on 30 minutes now, and she’s gotten an eyeful during it, watching him bend over every now and again in the small speedo, the muscles in his back straining and his perfect behind on full display.    
  
She’s staring at said perfect ass when she hears him calling her name, “Ms. Lodge? Did you hear me?”    
  
“What’s that?” She’s blinking trying to clear the fog in her brain, not registering that he had said anything prior, too lost in her head wondering what his thighs would feel like between hers.    
  
He’s walking closer over to her now and there is no mistaking any taut line across his body, especially one that runs straight down the middle of his abdomen into fine hairs over his upper pelvis, and she wants to know what he tastes like.    
  
“I said, can I get you a refill?” His smile is beckoning to her and she feels a pull somewhere behind her naval watching him brush his hand across his forehead and push his red hair back away from his face.    
  
“Ms. Lodge? Are you alright?” He tries again.   
  
She’s unfocused, forgetting her next line, and tries to redirect, lowering her glasses down over her nose to stare at him over the top rims. “I would love a refill, Ralphiekins,” she coos, bending her leg and running her hand down her smooth thigh, watching as his eyes follow her movements.   
  
But then he’s moving toward the table to get to the pitcher, undistracted by her, so she grabs the slippery glass there before he can himself and holds it out to him. He tries to take it from her, but her grip is strong, so instead his hand wraps around hers to keep the glass steady while he pours, which is what she wanted anyway, a little skin to skin contact.    
  
She feels the calluses on his strong fingers and runs with an idea as he lets go. “Such strong hands there. What other kind of labor do you do?”    
  
His face looks a little confused for a moment, but then he responds, “Construction, landscaping, among other things.”   
  
“You must be strong,” she toys, pushing the glasses back up her nose, reaching out to grasp his upper arm and gasping when she does so, feeling the bulge beneath her fingers. “Very strong.”   
  
He’s fighting a grin, and she’s afraid he’s going to break, so she adds, “Are you finished with the pool? I was thinking of taking a dip now.”   
  
“I am. Anything else you need today?” There’s a hint of pink growing in his cheeks, and she’s going to scold him later for being bashful now.    
  
“There is, in fact. You need to join me for a swim. It’s hotter than hell out here. You deserve it after all your hard work,” she says, extending her hand out for him to help her up.    
  
“Oh no, ma’am, it wouldn’t be right,” he shakes his head, eyes smiling.    
  
“Don’t ma’am me. And I must insist. I won’t tell if you won’t,” she lets her voice drop a little with the last line, running her fingers over his forearm, before removing her hat and sunglasses and sashaying away towards the pool steps.    
  
She turns to look over her shoulder at him as she walks, “Bring the margaritas, Ralph.”    
  
He does as he’s told, bringing the pitcher and her glass over to where she’s getting in the shallow end, the water warmed from the sun, but still refreshing against her skin as she sinks down in it to her chin. Her hair is piled up in a knot, but some escaped tendrils are already wet, framing her face. She’s staring back at him pointedly, waiting to see what he’ll do next, watching as he decides to down her almost full glass, her eyes wide and mouth grinning as he does so, another thing to tease him about later, before he’s sloppily clambering down the steps towards her. He goes under immediately and springs back up, whipping his head to get the wet hair back off his face, splashing her in the process.    
  
“You know, I don’t think you did a very good job with the pool today,” she states matter of factly.   
  
“Is that so?” He responds grinning, swimming around her in circles.

  
“Yes, my husband won’t be very pleased. You didn’t even check the pH,” she cocks her head to the side as she speaks, biting the inside of her cheek in attempt not to smirk.   
  
“I guess I’ll be more thorough next time,” he says, coming in closer to her, his hand brushing over her thigh. She lets out a small hum as he disappears behind her. When he speaks again, his lips are close to her ear, “Your husband is a lucky man.”   
  
“Oh?” She says coyly, pushing away from him and turning. “You think so?”   
  
But he’s following her, backing her up into the corner, trapping her between his body and the wall, not touching her quite yet, but leaving little breathing room between them.    
  
He stands, the water level just about to his naval, placing his hands on the walls on either side of her, towering over her. The droplets of water running down his chest cause her tongue to swipe out over her lips involuntarily, before she looks up into his face.    
  
“When will be he be home?” He asks, one of his thighs coming in between hers, letting her sink her weight onto him.   
  
She reaches out to touch his abs, watching as they clench under the contact, her fingers starting to trace along the ridges. He’s pressing in closer to her as she does so, her back at the wall when her chest meets his, a hand coming up behind her to pull on the strings of her top.    
  
“Not for hours. He works so hard. I’m very lonely,” she responds with a breathy tone, as her top falls forward, trapped between their bodies. The warmth of the sun has nothing on the heat building between them, his leg lifting her up closer to him, her hips sliding completely forward on it as he pulls her top out from between them.    
  
Her bare breasts slip against his hard chest as he leans over into her neck, letting his tongue drag around in the space there where it meets her shoulder. His arms come around her hips to push her down onto his leg, the friction sinful, smiling with the resultant moan from her lips as she comes into contact with his growing erection in his speedo.    
  
“Should I check the pH, Ms. Lodge?” He whispers into her ear, lips brushing against it with his words, sending shivers down her already sensitive spine.    
  
“Yes, Ralph. Please do,” she breathes back to him, arms coming up around his neck before pulling his face towards her. Their kiss is deep, tongues diving as she clings to him desperately, his hand slipping into the back of her bikini bottoms. He brushes along her sensitive skin there until reaching her core, sinking just his index and middle finger tips in amongst the slippery juices as she scoots impossibly closer to him, riding his thigh, her hip bone pressing relentlessly into his own arousal.   
  
She’s reaching down to grip him through his suit as his mouth leaves hers to trail down her chest, bending her back over the edge of the pool to get better access. Her nails drag along his shaft as the concrete digs into her back, and he hisses into her breast, the feeling just bordering on tortuous with the paradox of the gentle motion of the water between them. 

  
He suckles her deep into his mouth, appreciating her vocal response to the action, his fingertips still toying with her entrance. It’s all too easy for him to pull the tie off the one side of her bottoms, lessening the constraint on his arm within them. She’s trying to shove down his Speedo, but before she can guide him into her he’s pulling her up out of the water and sitting her on the edge, spreading her legs wide for him before his mouth covers her there.

  
His tongue seeks out her sensitive bud and as he flicks against it she’s falling back onto the stones, moaning and grasping his hair between her fingers to guide him. He can feel her wetness on his chin and he can’t help but dive lower there to taste her, sucking it out like it’s the elixir of life. Long swipes up and down her slit and she’s panting, the feeling like being pleasantly ripped in two, the thrill of the open air around them intensifying every sensation.    
  
She wants to be louder than she is, but she worries for the neighbors as it’s the middle of the day, and muffles her mouth with her hand as he moves back to her bud and sucks it between his lips. Her core is clenching around nothing and she decides she doesn’t want to come like this, pulling his head away, a look of protest on his face like she’s taking candy away from a kid.   
  
She sinks back into the water and tries again to lower his suit as his hands wrap themselves into her hair. Once he’s freed, she’s quite literally pulling him by his arousal towards her, back up against the wall, legs coming around his waist and guiding him straight in like docking a boat, satisfied moans passing their lips as they meet.    
  
They’re still for a moment as they each adjust, lips moving lazily across each other’s. She clenches around him to signal she’s ready for him to move, the feeling like tightening the reins on an already taut line, and he slowly pulls back before thrusting forward again, his rhythm slow and deep. She’s humming into his lips, his one hand under a thigh and the other still wrapped up in her onyx hair, pulling more tendrils free in his haste. There’s a slow burn building between them that’s too good to change up, each motion like a breeze on flaming embers, just keeping things steadily lit. For a few minutes there is only them like this, a gentle push and pull and steady build. She nibbles on his bottom lip as he cups her jaw, mumbling her name as they send tiny ripples across the surface of the water with their unhurried movements.   
  
The slip and slide starts to become too much and not enough all at once, and she starts to claw at his back beckoning him to pick up the pace. A frenzy begins to grow low in her belly and she has to pull her lips away from him to moan up into the sun as his hips start to snap deep into her.   
  
She brings her fingers down between them, finding her own sensitive bud to add steady pressure, and she’s fluttering around him now. “Are you close?”   
  
“Fuck, yes,” he grunts back, the water now sloshing between them with his movements.    
  
She’s praying to the sky then, pure filth pouring out of her mouth in the sunshine as she goes, the heat pulsing between them, her walls clenching down on him like she’s trying to strangle him. He tries to let her ride it out, but the pressure is too much and his movements are shaky before he’s following her into the ecstasy.   
  
When their movements and the water finally still, he’s walking them back over to the steps, taking a seat with her in his lap to relax. She’s leaning back to let her back and head float freely on the surface, a gorgeous goddess in the water still wrapped around him.   
  
“Well that was certainly fun,” she says, eyes closed and arms out at her sides, face up to the heavens with a content smile on her face.    
  
He leans over to place a kiss against her sternum before responding. “How’d I do?”   
  
“Pretty good there, Archiekins. I like Ralph. Let’s keep him.”   
  
———   
  
It’s a few days later when her phone lights up with a text from Cheryl.

  
_ Pool man found a bikini top in the filter today. I presume it’s yours. Remind me never to let you two house sit again without supervision. _ __  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
